Crash N Burn
by Sanqhian
Summary: The nightmares never stop for Nick. Greg is missing and may be dead. Just when Nick thinks things can't get any worse someone from his past comes back. [slash, sequel to Inside my Coffin]
1. Waking to Nightmares

**Title: **Crash and Burn

**Disclaimer: **Angst, slash, violence, sexual content, language.

**Note: **Sequel to _Inside My Coffin_

**POV:** Nick

**

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Chapter One: Waking to Nightmares**

Life hasn't been easy for me. I've been molested by a babysitter. I lived out that Jim Carrey movie, "Cable Guy". Only the crazy cable man stalking me pushed me out of a second-story window. I've had guns drawn on me and my life threatened. Worst of all I was buried alive, in a see-through coffin so that I could live out the horror by seeing all that dirt around me. No one would be mentally stable after that, right? So why did everyone ignore me? Better yet, why did I lie to them when I knew that things were falling apart? Maybe I wasn't ready to admit to myself that I was losing my mind. Paranoia is powerful. I couldn't sleep for days with the lights off; it reminded me too much of that damn coffin. That incident changed my life in so many ways. It's understandable to see why I'm claustrophobic and why I don't really enjoy going into underground places.

I knew I was falling, failing myself. I just didn't know how badly. When I thought things would never look up I found a shining star. I found the one thing that every human being is searching for, love. A love so deep that I began to think life was worth living again. My lover, my other half, was a co-worker and a dear friend. Greg loved me for who I was, and there's no greater love. Yes, I knew the chances I took dating a co-worker, and a male co-worker at that. But I never once expected that Ecklie would air out my dirty laundry to Grissom. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Greg didn't deserve to be ousted like that, without his permission. I didn't stay to see how Grissom reacted. No, I stormed out of the lab and tried to lose myself forever to the desert.

Three weeks of intense therapy followed. Greg and Grissom where there with me every step of the way. Grissom wasn't bothered that Greg and I had fallen in love. He said that it was human nature to love someone you see nearly every day of your life. And here I thought he would frown upon office romances. Considering the fact that Sara is completely smitten with him and he does his best not to return those feelings. Eventually the pain went away, my stress level went down. Life returned to normal, well, as normal as my life could get. Greg convinced me that we needed to live together. We decided on my place because it was larger. I kept thinking how things had changed between my friends and I. Catherine and Warrick barely spoke to me. Sara, though supportive of the relationship, kept her distance. Even Brass seemed to have disappeared into the background.

Until the day Greg actually moved in. They all showed up for a surprising house-warming party. Turned out that Warrick, Brass, and Catherine just wanted to keep their distance until things got sorted out. Sara stayed away because she didn't want to be around Grissom and since he was helping me get through my depression, he was around a lot. Things fell into place and returned to normal. Greg and I got into a routine. We'd drive to work together, of course, return home together, have dinner, and then watch some TV or do other more intimate things. He wore the ring I gave him like a badge of honor. He didn't even take it off in the shower. I once recommended that he remove it before he worked a crime scene. He had told me that he didn't want to take the chance of losing it.

So I could say that I was happy that Thursday night when I went to bed. I'd left Greg in front of the TV watching some show about crocodiles. My mind was tired and my body ached. I had spent the day helping Warrick moving heavy boxes and rotting pieces of wood. Not the greatest place to be looking for evidence. Warrick nearly got bit by a snake. Animal control had to be called in to remove it from the area. Good thing we did that too, 'cause lying underneath the snake was a blood knife. When I returned to the lab to get the blood tested I found that there was a splinter in my thumb. Even with gloves on, wood finds its way into the skin.

Greg spent the day looking for a stolen car with Brass and Sara. Grissom stole Catherine away to work a mysterious death at a local convenience store. Just another typical day in the life of a CSI. Greg made dinner when we returned home; spaghetti and meatballs with some Italian bread. Then we sat down to watch mindless programs on TV until I just couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. The bed called to me with its soft pillows and warming blankets. I was out before my head hit the pillow.

I should have known that I would have nightmares that night. They'd stayed away for more than a week. I was due for some nasty dreams. Being buried alive replayed in my mind like a broken record. Over and over again I felt the bites of the fire ants and the heat of that damn light. A scream shattered the barrier of my subconscious. I clutched a fistful of my pillow. Greg must have found an old horror movie to watch. The scream sounded again, this time it was followed by evil laughter. An old slasher movie.

"Greg, turn it down or shut it off," I yelled.

The house fell quiet almost immediately. Maybe if I hadn't been so tired I would have gotten up to see what movie Greg had been watching. But sleep quickly took me into its embrace again and I was lost to the darkness. Another nightmare began to play out to me.

I ran through the woods in nothing but my sweatpants. My body glistened with the sweat that covered it. Something, or someone, was chasing after me. I could feel the panic so vividly, my heart beating a frantic rhythm against my ribcage. A shadow stepped into my path and I was knocked onto my back. The shadowy figure climbed on top of me, wrapping hands around my throat. I tried to pry the hands from my throat but they held fast. So I began searching the ground for anything that I could use as a weapon. My fingers brushed against a knife. I never once stopped to think why a knife was lying on the ground out in the middle of the woods. All I worried about was getting away from my attacker. I picked up the knife and drove it into the side of my attacker.

A scream of pain echoed in the night as the hands slipped from my throat. I stabbed the guy again; another scream of pain shattered the dark. The figure crumpled to the ground in a heap. I dropped the knife. Blood coated my hands and I could feel the bile in the back of my throat. As I bent over to vomit the coppery smell of blood hit me hard. It filled the night air masking the scent of nature itself. The smell grew so strong that it actually woke me up. My eyes focused in the darkness of my bedroom. My breathing was labored, my heart still beating as though I had truly been running. The coppery smell lingered, or did it? I inhaled deeply, trying to clear the smell from my system. Instead I was hit full force with a stronger dose.

Panic reached out for me as I sat up in bed and flipped on the bedside lamp. My hands were sticky and slightly wet. With fear I forced myself to look down at them. My hands were clean when I went to bed. Now they were covered in the red of human blood freshly spilled. A splash of color was visible out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look at the other side of the bed. Blood dotted the pillow where Greg slept. More blood pooled on the once spotless sheets. The bed was empty. Greg wasn't there.

My dream replayed in my mind. Had Greg climbed into bed after finishing up with his horror movie? Did I think he was attacking me? Oh god, had I stabbed Greg while thinking that I was stabbing some fictional dream attacker? I shook my head, no, I couldn't have. Where was the weapon? I kept nothing sharp in my bedroom. A gun was in the drawer of my bedside table but no knives. Nothing that I could use to stab someone. What had happened?

"Greg?" I called in a near whisper as I climbed unsteadily to my feet.

The house was cold and I shivered. Someone was talking in the living room. I could hear the voices of two people. Could Greg be out there? Light seeped through a crack in the curtains on my bedroom window. The sun was up. I had slept the whole night? Fear welling up inside me, I quietly pulled open the bedside drawer. The gun, fully loaded, felt heavy in my bloodstained hand. Something wasn't right.

On silent footsteps I crossed the bedroom floor to the door. I hesitated. What if I didn't want to look into the living room? What if the scene there was worse than the one in here? I had no choice, I had to look. The voices floated across the open space to reach my ears. I let the gun fall to my side. No one is in my house. I step out of the bedroom, still on edge. The voices on the TV keep up their chatter. I walk over to flick it off. My hand freezes. The TV is still set on Animal Planet. Greg had been watching that crocodile show when I'd left him for bed. I could have sworn he changed the channel to watch a horror flick. I hit the 'back' button to see what the last viewed channel was before Animal Planet. It took me to a twenty-four hour news channel. Greg never watched a horror movie last night. The screams I heard…

Had they been his?

The pages of the TV guide rustled in the breeze. That's when I noticed that the front door stood wide open. The gun slipped from my hand. A bloody handprint had been smeared across the door. A numb feeling began to wash over me as the realization sunk in, there had been no nightmares. I plucked my cell phone from the coffee table. Good thing Grissom was on speed-dial because I don't think I would have remembered his number. His voice came across the line as the connection was made. But I couldn't say anything. The words just wouldn't come…


	2. That Empty Feeling

**Title:** Crash and Burn

**Disclaimer:** Angst, slash, violence, sexual content, language.

**POV: **Nick

**

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Chapter Two: That Empty Feeling**

The wind picked up the leaves at my feet, making them swirl in a little dance as I walked along. The sky was full of soft shades of the rainbow as the sun set on a clear, cool day. Along the darker horizon a few stars were already visible. Off to my left an owl called out to the night, waking from his day of sleep. To my right came the distinct sounds of a babbling brook. I looked around and took in all the sights there were to see. The apple green grass running to the edges of the world. Trees, big and small, dotted the sometimes hilly land. The brook ran a course of many twists and turns cutting a path through the softly swaying grass. I clearly wasn't in the desert anymore.

The wind grew a little stronger, ruffling my clothes and caressing my skin. Laughter was carried to my ears from somewhere behind me. I turned to see no one. The sound shifted and came at me from the right. Every time I turned to look for the source it changed direction until it had me spinning like a top. Then it all stopped. The laughter ceased to exist. The owl stopped hooting. The brook stopped moving. Even the wind stopped its gentle breeze. All around me the world became still and quiet. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to chase off the sudden chill that overtook my body. It came to my softly, on wings of silence. My name. Someone was calling out to me, looking for me.

I took off in the general direction of the sexless voice. My feet carried me at a run over the ground. The voice drew closer and closer. My name sounded more instant and every time I heard it I felt like someone was touching me, deep in my soul. Atop a hill I stopped running as the world below came into focus. The sandy desert played out before me with cacti standing guard. The sand gave the earth a dirty look compared to the lush beauty of the grass. A Tahoe sat in the middle of the small desert valley. With careful steps I made my way toward it.

I remembered the vehicle; it was exactly identical to the ones issued by the crime lab. All the tires were flat and the car sealed up tight against the outside world. I walked slowly around it, careful not to step on a rattle snake or small cactus. The windows were deeply tinted to prevent me from looking in; it sent shivers of foreboding down my spine. I looked around me, trying to figure out who had left the disabled car here. There were no signs of another human being. There was no sign of anything. No animals. No wind. Just the silence of the night.

A rumble of thunder shattered the eerie silence making me jump. The once spotless sky was now covered in ugly black storm clouds. Lightning jumped from cloud to cloud and lit up the darkness. I tried the handle of the passenger side. The door wouldn't budge. I tried the driver's side only to find the same thing. All the doors were locked, keeping the outside from getting in, or was it the other way around? I felt the water as it started to sprinkle. A torrential downpour was only minutes away; I could feel it in my bones.

Through the rumble of thunder I heard my name again. The voice came from the back of the Tahoe. It came from the trunk. Almost against my will I walked around to the rear of the car. My hand clasped the handle of the hatch and pulled. The piece of metal moved effortlessly up, opening the car to the world. A strong bolt of lightning revealed to me what lay inside the trunk. I choked on the scream in my throat.

The interior of the car was covered in blood. The color of the upholstery was barely visible. A headless corpse sat in the backseat, blood still slowly dripping from the wound. The rain soaked me, plastering my clothes to me like a second skin. Laughter sounded all around me and my name was called in varying tones. I fell to my knees, trying not to throw up as the lightning flashed, showing me the interior again. Showing me the lifeless face that stared in my direction. Eyes long since dead to the world, eyes no longer laughing. There was no love in the face of the one who brought me happiness. I couldn't hold it in anymore and emptied my stomach on the desert floor.

Hands held me down as the coughs wracked my body. My chest hurt and my head throbbed with the beginning of a migraine. Some shouted for water while another person sat me up. A hand rubbed my back, trying to force away the coughs. I opened my eyes finally chasing away the horrible dream and its bone chilling eeriness. I was in my home, the home I shared with Greg. People moved around me but their names wouldn't come. A glass of water was brought to my lips and drank the cool liquid. The coughing fit eased and finally went away.

"Are you alright, Nick?"

I looked into the slate blue eyes of my boss, Gil Grissom. "What…" was all that I could get out.

"You called my cell phone twenty minutes ago, Nicky, don't you remember?" I shook my head in response and instantly regretted it. "When I answered the phone you didn't say anything, not a word. Warrick had been in my office when the call came through. He tried calling Greg and there wasn't any answer. I called Brass on my way over here. Good thing too, or I fear you might be dead."

"What are you talking about?" I said my voice hoarse from all the coughing. I finally realized that I was sitting on the floor outside my bedroom. "How did I get here?"

Grissom's eyebrows knitted together. "You don't remember what you were doing?"

"No, I do but…when I called you I was on the couch and that's all I remember," I explained.

"Nick, Brass found you lying on the floor not breathing. I'm worried about all the blood in this house, Nicky. Where's Greg?" He asks quietly, the worry clearly showing on his face.

I shrugged and began recounting the night. Brass was standing behind Grissom so I only had to say it once. I told them about leaving Greg watching TV. I told them how I yelled at him in the middle of the night and cried when I once again wished that I had actually gotten out of bed. Then I told them about the nightmare that woke me and how I found the blood. Brass wrote it all down, not missing a word. By the time I was done telling my tale Sarah, Warrick, and Catherine had shown up. Grissom expressed to me how he wanted to get me to the hospital, to have me checked out. I think he was silently hoping to find a foreign substance in my system. Anything that could explain my lack of memory.

The others did their best not to look at me with sympathy as Grissom led me to his car. The glare of the sun was too much and I shielded my eyes with my hand. Once in the car Grissom handed me a pair of sunglasses. There were more questions he wanted to ask, I could feel, but he didn't think the timing to be appropriate. So I spoke first.

"I….I think I may have harmed Greg, thinking he was the attacker in my dream," my voice a mere whisper.

"From what I saw of the bedroom the evidence says otherwise," Grissom replied backing out of the driveway and heading for the hospital. He kept the siren off. He was a good boss, a good man, and he could tell when someone was in pain. Even if he wasn't the greatest with people.

"I wish I could believe you…"

Grissom let the silence stretch for five minutes before the CSI in him took over. "I don't want this to come off rude, Nicky, but I have to ask, you know that. Where you and Greg arguing last night? Had there been any disagreement whatsoever?"

"No, none, Greg was in a happy mood. He actually cooked dinner instead of calling some delivery service," I replied. "We discussed the cases we worked, watched the evening news, and then I went to bed. I told this to you already."

"I'm aware of that but I thought you might be holding back since Brass was standing there," he stated.

I tried hard to think back over the days. I know that we had not fought that night; it had been a peaceful night. "Last week we argued about cars. Greg wanted to know why we always took my car to work. Aside from that I can't think of anything else."

"Don't strain yourself, Nick," Grissom warned. "You probably took a great knock the noggin when you passed out from whatever."

"I didn't take anything," I remarked.

"Maybe you didn't take it voluntarily. Perhaps whoever hurt Greg slipped you something," he replied.

We spent the rest of the ride in silence. Had someone really slipped me something? And if they did, when would they have done it? It would have had to been close to the time I got up. I don't remember being stuck with a needle and no one could have forced a pill down my throat. Maybe a liquid would have worked. Grissom helped me from the car, my head hurt more now than it did when I woke up. The world spun around like a CD in player and I nearly fell over. Grissom placed my right arm over his shoulders and half carried me-half held me up.

My body hurt now more than it did before. The lower right side of my shirt, above my hip was wet and sticking to my skin. I must have said something to Grissom because he pulled on my shirt. He muttered something that sounded like "shit". He forced me to sit on a bench, taking off without me toward the entrance of the hospital. My side was numb, my head throbbed and my body ached. When I had awakened that morning I had been fine. No aches, no pains, not even a bit of fatigue. Maybe I blocked out any pain. The trauma of waking up next to all that blood was enough to force my focus on something else.

Sitting outside in the already hot day made me drowsy. I felt my body sweating to ease the temperature of my body. Where had Grissom gone off to in such a hurry? A combination of my nightmares, the adrenaline of this morning and the sun was making me nod off. I didn't feel steady on my own two feet. Would Grissom mind if I napped while he was gone? I lay on my right side, stretching out on the bench. My momma warned me about never sleeping in the sun, you risked severe sunburn. I wouldn't sleep for too long, Grissom had to come back at some point. I was the reason we'd come to the hospital in the first place.

"Nicky, wake up buddy," I heard Grissom's voice as I closed my eyes. "Don't give in, Nick, come on."

I opened my eyes as he pulled on my arm. He had an attendant with him and a stretcher. "Something wrong, Griss?"

"The headache, the blacking out, the drowsiness; Nick, I think your nightmare was a little more real than we originally thought." As he said this he pulled up the side of my shirt. It had not been sticky with sweat, no; there was blood along my side, seeping from an open wound. After that I checked out of consciousness.


	3. Falling Toward the Sky

**Title:** Crash N Burn

**Author Note: **See profile.

**Disclaimer:** Angst, slash, violence, sexual content, language.

**POV: **Nick

**

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Chapter Three: Falling Toward the Sky**

The sounds of beeping machinery echoed around the room. The bed underneath me was not exactly comfortable but definitely not uncomfortable. My pillow could have used a fluffing. The blanket wasn't thick and I felt chilly. The bandage on my side created an odd feeling of fragileness, like if I moved just a fraction of an inch I'd rip open a large whole in my side. And that wasn't too far from the truth. I didn't have to open my eyes to know that I lay in hospital bed with IV's sticking in my arms and my body hooked to various machines that did things I didn't understand. I'd been here before and the feeling couldn't be easily forgotten. At least this time I hadn't put myself in here. That little tidbit gave me a moment's relief. Last time, I tried to kill myself and they had had to restrain me, in my own bed. There were no restraints this time. Just the hollow feeling of having lost something near and dear.

At first my mind didn't register the fact that two other people occupied the room too. For some reason I was angered that I couldn't be given a room all to myself. After all, I was an officer. I put my life on the line just doing my damn job. Go figure, I'm not working when I get hurt. The sent of dirt drifts across the room. Mixed in with it was the smell of vegetation and blood. Only one person I know has ever smelled like that; Grissom. His obsession with bugs and work gave him the unique smell on a few occasions. This didn't seem like the proper time for him to be playing with bugs. Not while I'm lying in a hospital bed. Then again, Grissom is kind of bad when it comes to people skills. Makes me wonder how he ended up with his choice of career. He could have found a job with bugs in a museum or something like that. He wouldn't have had to deal with so many people then, he could have worked behind the glass. Away from the swarming thongs of people we get at crime scenes.

From the smell of cologne and floral fabric detergent I deduced that the other presence was Warrick. Ever since he got married his clothes have smelled rather…odd. One week they smelled like fresh rain, the week after that it was a summer's breeze, or so he said. Why his wife just couldn't use an ordinary fabric detergent is beyond me. On a few cases I had worked with him the smell had been too overpowering. He told me he'd talk to his wife about it and apparently, if he had, he lost the battle. Fabric detergent was the least of his problems, though. I saw the way he looked at Catherine. His feelings for her weren't completely gone, they ran too deep into his heart to just disappear with a simple 'I do'.

"What did the doctor have to say about the wound?" Warrick asked in a hushed voice.

Grissom shifted in his seat, the old wooden chair creaked a little. "It wasn't too deep and it missed the kidneys, didn't nick any major arteries either. He'll have a scar but it should heal up nicely. We have to make sure he doesn't rip the stitches though. The doctor is worried about infection."

I imagined Warrick would shake his head at this point. "An infection, that's the last thing we should be worried about."

"Infections after surgery can be life threatening," Grissom said, kicking into full scientist mode. Why must he always do that? Why did he have to hide behind his knowledge instead of showing how he cared for human life? "The infection could lead to Septic Shock, which lowers blood pressure and slows the flow of the blood. The death rate is extremely high, especially because of organ failure. Infections should never be taken lightly, Warrick."

"Okay, okay," Warrick gave up. "I understand that things could go even farther down hill. But I think we need to worry about Greg, too, not just an infection that's currently hypothetical."

Grissom let a few minutes of silence pass before he spoke again. "This case has become a bit disturbing."

"What have the others been able to uncover?"

"I don't like what the evidence is telling us. All that blood in the house belongs to Nick, none of it is Greg's," Grissom said. "Both Sara and Brass inspected the front door and every single window in that house, there's no evidence whatsoever that someone broke in."

Warrick sighed. "Well, what about the bloody handprint on the door?"

"It's Nick's blood but when we ran the prints they came back to Greg. I don't want to believe that Greg would do something like this," he stated. "However, in the last few months I've begun to question the type of person he really is."

At that point I heard Warrick get up and start pacing the floor. Good thing I pretended to be asleep, I hate watching people pace. It's like they think walking back and forth is going to help them think better or speed time up. It does neither. All you're doing is letting the world know that you can't handle the pressure anymore. Never let them see you down; they'll take advantage of you.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I've been working with you and Nick in the field for a fair amount of years now. I know the two of you so well. Believe it or not I think I knew Nick fancied men over women before he did," Grissom began to explain. I could picture Warrick giving him a questioning look of disbelief. "The scientist in me notices things like that. Greg, on the other hand, had been working in the lab and I rarely found myself in the company of him. I was happy when he wanted to try working in the field, he was the top of his class and graduated young. It was time to tap the potential he had inside."

"Sounds to me like you knew him okay," Warrick pointed out.

"Just because you know a few facts about a person's background does not mean you know them entirely, Warrick," he pointed out. "Greg was notorious for telling jokes and doing other somewhat childish things that didn't seem appropriate for the lab. I let them slide because he's damn good at his job. Once out in the field that personality began to disappear. He became a bit more grim."

Warrick laughed, he tried to keep it low so as not to wake the fake-sleeping me. "We all get a bit grim at times. How do you expect people to react when they see the violence that we do day after day? It takes a toll, Griss. Ask Sara and Catherine, they'll tell you the same thing."

"I just have a bad feeling about this whole thing."

"You're letting feelings interfere on a case? That's not like you at all," Warrick said. "Look, I know that you're worried and I know that you're very protective of Nick, we've had this talk, but you can't go doubting Greg."

"I don't want to doubt Greg, Warrick. I'm just looking where the evidence points. There was no forced entry; Nick's blood is the only blood there; Greg can't be located and he won't answer his cell phone. If someone kidnapped him, why haven't they called looking for a ransom or something along those lines?" Grissom mused. "Even when Nick was taken we were contacted. This doesn't make any sense."

Warrick stopped pacing. I know this because his sneakers stopped squeaking on the tile floor. "The evidence says Greg did this to Nick. What does your heart tell you, Grissom?"

Grissom was looking at me; I could feel his eyes on me. "My heart tells me that something has gone terribly wrong. My heart says that Nick was supposed to die and that Greg won't be far behind. That's why I'm not listening to my heart, Warrick, I don't like what it's saying."

"I don't like what it's saying either. Who would want to kill Nick while he sleeps, kidnap Greg, and then kill him in some unknown location?" Warrick asked, sitting back in his chair.

"That's something I would rather not think about. As far as I know we finished up the business of Nick's kidnapping, unless there was a third undisclosed party. The man who stalked him is still in jail, I checked this morning," Grissom explained. "Can you think of anyone who has threatened Nick at any of your investigations?"

Warrick probably shrugged. "If they did, I didn't hear them and he never said anything to me. Something tells me that if he did get threatened at work that he would tell Greg."

"Talking with Greg is not an option, currently," Grissom stated bluntly.

Silence held onto the room for a few minutes while they both thought over the last few months. I found myself doing the same thing. My mind went through each and every scene that I had processed. It went over each word of the conversations that I had with victims and suspects. Nothing jumped out; no one was waving a red flag of possibility. So my mind shifted gears and began to worry about Greg. There hadn't been any problems with us since he moved in, no arguments, maybe a small disagreement but those were always quickly resolved. Life had been going great and bam, the happiness was gone in the blink of an eye. Would Greg have hurt me like this? The simple fact that even I questioned his intentions surprised me. This was the man I had given my heart to, I wouldn't doubt him. But…some things about the evidence didn't make sense. Maybe the others were missing something. They had to be. I just hoped they found it in time to save Greg. Or my heart was going to shatter all over again.

"Do you think he's going to wake-up soon?" Warrick asked after the silence became to daunting; or his thoughts became too troublesome.

"Eventually, but we should really leave, let him rest," Grissom replied. "We need his mind to be fresh when he does wake-up."

I hear the door click shut after they leave. Only then, in the empty silence of my hospital room, do I finally break down and cry. Why does this keep happening to me?


	4. Haunting Hallways

**Title: **Crash and Burn

**Disclaimer: **Angst, slash, violence, sexual content, language.

**POV:** Nick

**

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Chapter Four: Haunting Hallways**

It's been all of two days since I was released from the hospital. In that time I've gotten a lot of thinking done. My mind is full of thoughts that I can't comprehend. Part of me knows that Greg would never hurt me, and I would never hut him. Thoughts like that don't scare me; it's what I don't know that keeps me up at night. What if I did harm Greg, why don't I remember committing the crime? And what motive would he have to do me harm? None of it makes sense to me; will it ever? If I could only work these thoughts would go away and I could be free of this growing guilty feeling. Grissom said I could work in the lab for a few weeks. Ecklie, however, strictly forbade my going back to work. He didn't think I was capable of doing my job. He didn't want to risk having a loose-cannon CSI. None of it kept me from showing up at the lab and wandering the hallways that day. I wanted to hear what my friends were doing. Where they searching for Greg or trying to blame me for his disappearance?

I'm pretty sure that the receptionist called Ecklie when I entered the building. I may not have been able to work but I still had rights to the place. If he questioned why I'd shown up I could always lie and tell him I was here for something in my locker. If I didn't run into him until later in the day then I could say I was having lunch with Sara. She willingly go along with that plan. Sara and I had an interesting relationship. While I loved Greg and palled around with Warrick, I respected Grissom and stayed out of Catherine's way. Over the years Sara had become somewhat of a confidant for me, she knew all my secrets. If there was anyone in the lab I could trust it would be her.

The halls were just about empty. I believed that the night shift had fewer lab technicians and this reinforced my beliefs. I was beginning to wonder where everyone else was when I heard Brass's voice coming from Grissom's office. Curse the glass walls for their lack of hiding places, at least if I stayed around the corner I could hear them and they wouldn't notice me. I hated the glass walls, it often made me feel like I was in a fishbowl. My guess was that it kept hanky-panky out of the office. At least all the walls weren't glass, there were still a few solid ones; like in the bathroom and three of the four walls to Grissom's office.

"How goes the search for Greg? Have you found any leads whatsoever in his disappearance?" Grissom asked in a hopeful voice.

"No, unfortunately I haven't been able to locate anything," Brass replied. I could picture him shaking his head. "I've talked with nearly every neighbor and no one remembers hearing, or seeing, anything unusual that night."

At this point Grissom probably frowned. "They heard nothing? Nick said he heard a scream."

"Either the scream wasn't that loud or it didn't exist, Grissom."

Now even Brass was beginning to doubt me. If this kept up, I was going to seriously doubt myself. And if that happened, the truth would never be found. This behavior didn't fit Grissom at all. What happened to the man that listened to the science and the evidence? It seemed like he was paying more attention to speculation this time. Then it dawned on me. Grissom always said the first person at the scene was always the first suspect. That meant I was a suspect. But why the hell would I call in one of the best damn forensic teams to figure out what happened? Why didn't I just skip town?

"What about that officer that was patrolling in the area that night?" Grissom asked. A soft thud from his office led me to believe he was moving books around.

"When the call came in he was about two blocks away from Nick's house. He never saw another car or anybody out on the streets. I've gone through his record and he's a stand-up cop, there's no reason for him to be lying," explained Brass.

Grissom sighed. "At this rate things look really bad for Nick. I don't want to doubt him, but…"

"But what?"

"He's dealt with some pretty traumatic events in his life; I wouldn't be surprised if he snapped. Ecklie has been pushing me to get Nick evaluated at a psyche hospital to see if he's even fit for the job anymore," Grissom said softly. I heard the creak of the old wood as he sat in his chair.

"Ecklie wants to send him to the loony bin?"

"I guess so. According to him, the department psychologist would probably lie, saying that Nick's just fine. He wants a third-party who doesn't know the team personally. I'm guessing that way Ecklie will get what he wants," explained Grissom.

"I hear that he wants to give Sophie another try," Brass commented. "Would you be willing to work with her again?"

"She's better as an officer," and that statement ended the conversation. I knew that Grissom never really cared for Sophie. She had been too up-front and I'd seen the slightest bit of attraction in Grissom's eyes; he never believed in love on the job. His bugs meant more to him than any person on this planet, including the members of his own team. I couldn't really blame the man; I wished sometimes that my feelings were locked away deep inside. Maybe life would be easier that way. At least then I wouldn't have fallen in love with Greg and I wouldn't be standing in the hallway of the lab listening to my supposed friends talking about me like I was a criminal.

The conversation I'd just overheard made me curious; what did the others think of this predicament? Did they think that I was guilty too? Where they like Ecklie and thought I deserved to be in the loony bin? There was really only one way to find out. When I was younger my mother had taught me that eavesdropping was wrong. But in the years that I've worked this job I've come to understand that eavesdropping could actually be a good thing. It's amazing what things people will say when they think no one else is listening. It took me only a few minutes to find Catherine and Warrick. They were in garage, going over a car for another case; or did it possibly have something to do with Greg? Their voices carried well in the high-ceiling room.

"Shame that Greg has gone missing, do you think he's okay?" Warrick asked in a nonchalant sort of way.

"He was a good lab technician, and don't get me wrong, I do love the guy, but I wish that he had stayed there. The field is not his place. Had he been in the lab where he belonged, this probably wouldn't have happened," Catherine replied, expressing some distaste. "No one would have known he worked at the lab to begin with."

"You think they took him because he works for the crime lab?"

"Why else would they want him?"

"To make Nick look guilty of a crime," Warrick suggested. "Or perhaps it's the other way around. Maybe the person responsible kidnapped Greg and hurt Nick in hopes that everyone else would think Greg hurt Nick and then disappeared."

I heard someone drop something metallic and heavy on the floor. "Someone's guilty of something, that's for sure," remarked Catherine. "Can I ask you a personal question, Warrick?"

"I guess," he replied.

"Nick is supposed to be your best friend. Greg has never been of our class. So what do you really think of the two of them together?" Catherine questioned him.

I nearly barged into the room with my anger. How could she say that Greg wasn't of our class? I knew that most CSI looked down upon the lab technicians, but truth be told, we all started there. Maybe in the beginning I had found Greg a bit childish, now I found him to be a deep person who just wanted to look at the world with hope that things would get better. How could that make him below us? In my opinion, that made him better than us. Most of the time we hoped for the worst, not the best. The job changed people and it usually wasn't in a good way. I wanted Greg to stay in the lab so that the field work wouldn't sour his personality.

"How do I really feel?" echoed Warrick. "Well, I admit, I'm shocked. Nick used to talk about the women he was dating. And lest we forget, he did have something with that one prostitute, though I'm not clear what that relationship was. I just never expected this of him, but I'm not one to judge, seeing as I ran off and got married to a woman I've only known a few months."

"So you did."

I honestly believed that Warrick knew how much Catherine wanted him. I couldn't help thinking, as I walked down the hallway, that Greg and I were special. Sara wanted Grissom and Catherine wanted Warrick, but they couldn't figure out how to fit together. I had wanted Greg and I made it work. Isn't that what love was all about? I walked along, my hands shoved into my pockets, my hand hanging down. I'd thought coming to the lab would present some sort of comfort, seeing my friends and having them reassure me that everything would be fine. Instead all I learned was that they thought me guilty and crazy. I'd just have to find Greg myself, prove all their damned theories wrong; make them feel sorry for ever doubting me. And Greg.

"Nicky, what are you doing here?" Sara called as she stepped out of the break room.

I looked at the stubborn woman who had become somewhat of a confidant. "I'm just leaving, that's what I'm doing." My voice must have sounded harsher than I realized because she flinched.

"Something bothering you?"

"I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only one who knows that I'm innocent and believes that same of Greg," I replied. "Grissom thinks the whole thing is fishy. Ecklie wants to put me in a straight jacket. Catherine thinks my relationship is wrong. Warrick thinks I'm lying. Brass says all the evidence points to me. I thought I'd find comfort here."

She gave me a smile. "You have, Nick. I never once entertained the thought that you or Greg was guilty of this crime. I honesty believe there is a third-party. Maybe even more than one person. The evidence does point to you but it's all to perfect. Why would a trained CSI not clean-up? Why leave behind the telltale signs of a murder, or perhaps something else?" She laid a hand on my arm. "I'm going to find Greg and prove that you two are innocent. I promise, Nick."

"You always were a good friend, Sara. I wish the others felt the way you did. At least now I know who I can trust."


	5. Rundown

**Title: **Crash and Burn

**Disclaimer: **Angst, slash, violence, sexual content, language.

**POV:** Nick

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Chapter Five: Rundown**

I sat on the couch in my empty home, wondering why everything had gone so terribly wrong this year. Even though I kept trying to keep away the depressing thoughts I couldn't help it. If I had been successful in killing myself none of this would have happened. Greg never would have disappeared and our co-workers wouldn't be arguing over who's guilty; me or him. Lucky for me Grissom was occupied at the lab or he'd be here throwing a fit since I was technically sitting right smack-dab in the middle of a crime scene. I could be contaminating evidence. What did it matter? According to the information I overheard, all the blood was mine. Let Grissom get mad. I really just didn't care. I could start caring again when Greg returned to his rightful place.

What if he had runaway? The thought popped into my head at that precise moment. What if leaving was really his idea? Maybe he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. But that didn't explain the cut in my side or my blood all over the place. It would have been easy for him to just pack up and leave without a word. Greg was a smart person. He had graduated early, and with flying colors. I may have been a scientist too, but I was out of Greg's league when it came to the world of IQ's.

It seemed to me that my only friend was Sara. Not that that was a bad thing. At least someone believed in Greg and me. That tidbit of information should have been comforting but how can anything be comforting when there's a hole in my side and no way to explain how it got there? Could I have possibly caused the wound myself? I knew I was capable of self-infliction. Hell, I'd even tried to kill myself once. I honestly didn't think myself capable of murder, however. That was beyond me; even with all the negative experiences in my life. I continued to understand that it was up to me whether or not I did something wrong; not the fault of the people who harmed me in the past.

The house began to feel suffocating. I didn't want to be near the blood stains or the memories of waking up to horror. I slipped my sneakers on, tying the laces without really thinking of either action. The bloody hand print was still visible on my door and yellow police tape flapped around in the subtle breeze of the twilight hours. It was the perfect temperature for a walk. Usually I would go out for a jog before work but the doctor strictly forbade such exercise. Shutting the door with more force than necessary I started down the driveway. My neighbor gave me a hesitant glance before going back to trimming his hedges. In the space of mere nights I had gone from a loving neighbor who used to play with their daughter to a suspected murderer that was to be avoided. Life truly did suck at times.

Mr. Knowles had his right to be leery of me. I could understand that. I just hoped that when all was said and done, and I was found innocent, that we'd become the neighbors we once were. He probably didn't notice that he and his wife and their eight-year-old daughter were part of my extended family. I smiled as I walked along the street, thinking about all the barbeques we'd had and the times I'd reassured Mrs. Knowles that there weren't any prowlers around the house. Moving away from Texas, away from a family that never believed me, I had turned to other sources for that family need. Mainly the members of the CSI team. However, I didn't feel like family to them anymore.

I turned down a side road that was bare of house; for the time being anyway. More and more people were moving to the desert. At least that meant my job wasn't going to disappear any time soon. The place was quiet and helped to ease my troubled mind. A cool breeze tousled my hair. On the horizon I saw the stars beginning to make their appearance and the nearly full moon began to brighten in the darkening sky. I must have been half-way down the street when I heard the footsteps behind me. Probably just another walker or even a jogger out enjoying the cooling of the night. Nothing wrong with that.

I let my eyes wonder over the vast landscape that lay around me while my mind concentrated on thoughts of Greg. For so long I had searched for that one true love. Girl after girl, year after year. I had been about to give up for good on love when Greg made his move. I never expected to find my soul mate as a man. And though I loved him with all my heart, I wasn't sure how I felt about loving a guy. Sure, everyone at the lab knew, they had to. There was no way of avoiding that, especially after Ecklie's little mind game. There were two people back in Texas who knew nothing of my love for the science nerd. My own parents. I couldn't even bring myself to tell my parents that I loved a guy. What would my father say? Would they both disown me or would they be okay with it? With a heavy sigh I looked up to the sky. Why couldn't life ever be easy? Even for just one day?

The footsteps that had been following me drew every closer. I turned to gaze at the person who lurked behind and got blindsided. Their fist connected with my left cheek. The impact was unexpected; I couldn't have turned away in time. Judging from the pain that shot through my jaw the attacker had broken my cheekbone. Blood pooled in my mouth, filling it with a copper taste. I spat some of it out onto the ground. Before I could even turn to look upon my attacker he grabbed me roughly by the shoulder, spinning me around. I nearly lost my balance and fell.

I tried to throw a punch but he caught my wrist and twisted it. A scream escaped me as my muscles strained to keep the bone from breaking. I spat blood on him as another punch found its mark, this time hitting me in the eye. When I reached out to claw at him, wishing that I had remembered to bring my gun with me, he took hold of both of my shoulders. As he bent me forward he brought his knee up. I felt the jolt of pain as it connected with my solarplex. The air rushed from lungs and I fell to the unforgiving pavement with a thud.

I finally got a look at my attacker only to find his face covered with a black ski-mask. Typical. A black boot came rushing at me and I felt the pain in my stomach. I did my best to curl-up into the fetal position as the mystery person began to kick and stomp me. What had I done to deserve this? I was truly beginning to feel as though the world was out to get me. At some point I may have blacked out, I couldn't quite be sure. The pain in my body began to numb. I couldn't feel my legs; which clearly wasn't a good sign. What scared me more, though, was the heavy feeling in my stomach. All I could think about was internal bleeding. I'd seen enough of it in my job to know how awful a toll it took; death.

With one final swift kick to the ribs my attacker turn to run. I watched him fade into the dark. How lovely it must have been to be able to move. Just moving my arm a fraction of an inch made me cry out in pain. My throat felt sore and bruised even though I didn't remember getting attacked there. Could he have kicked me there? A coughing spasm hit me, blood colored my saliva. Nothing looked good for me. No one knew I was here or that I had gone walking. They wouldn't know what to think. Perhaps, if anyone came to visit me, they would assume I'd gone out to town.

Accepting defeat I lay there, letting the spirit slowly leave my body. This was to be my fate, dying at the hands of some unknown person on an empty street. I closed my eyes, listening to the sound of my ragged breath. Memories of Greg pushed away the pain giving my mind something else to focus on. I could feel his fingers on my skin, his breath on my cheek, and smell the scent that was unique his. It all felt so real. I yearned to be near him. I felt the tears run down my face, probably streaking the blood that was becoming sticky in consistency.

The sound of car tires on the pavement pulled me from my pit of peace. Opening my eyes I saw the bright headlights of an approaching car. Frantic thoughts began to run through my mind. Was my attacker coming back to make sure the job was done? What if the drive was innocent but didn't see me in time? Would I even feel the tires as they passed over my body? The vehicle drew closer. I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact that never came. Screeching tires and a slamming door surprised me instead.

"Oh, Nick, oh gees," Mr. Knowles cried out in shock. He crouched down in front of me. "I was praying that the scream of pain I heard wasn't yours. What the hell happened? It's clear what happened," he answered himself. "Where does it hurt? Can you move?"

I was so happy to see a familiar and friendly face that I reached out to grab his arm. My grip was weak. "It hurts everywhere."

"Oh shit, this isn't good," Mr. Knowles swore. "I didn't bring my cell phone. There's no way I can call for help. Moving you doesn't seem like the best idea. I can't leave you here to die though…"

Mr. Knowles grabbed me by the shoulders, attempting to drag me closer to his car. The pain became too much causing me to scream in pain. Mr. Knowles let me rest on the ground. I remembered the object in my pocket. Would it still work?

"My cell phone is in my pocket," I choked out in a near whisper. Mr. Knowles removed the small mechanize from my pocket. "Don't dial 911, hit speed dial number one."

He gave me a questioning look. "Are you sure? I mean, wouldn't an ambulance be better?"

"Just do it. Please."

Not bothering to waste time bickering with me he hit the button. I could only pray that there would be a connection with an actual human and not the damned voice mail. Mr. Knowles placed a hand on my shoulder. I wonder if it was to comfort him or to help comfort me. After what seemed like forever but in reality was only a few seconds the phone was picked up.

"Um, this is Mr. Knowles, Tom Knowles. I was told to call you Mr. Grissom." I only heard one side of the conversation. "I'm Nick's neighbor. He told me to call you. He needs help…….No, an ambulance…..I don't know. He said everything hurt…..Hurry, he doesn't look too good. Please….Yes, I'll stay on the line with you. Are you coming with help?" Mr. Knowles gave me a reassuring smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Mr. Grissom says he's on the way with loads of help. Hang on, Nick."


	6. Trying to Understand

**Title: **Crash and Burn

**Disclaimer: **Angst, slash, violence, sexual content, language.

**POV:** Grissom

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Chapter Six: Trying to Understand**

_The next night…._

I took my glasses off, placing them on the desk, and rubbed my eyes. The last few days had been nearly too much to comprehend. First Greg disappeared. All the evidence at the crime scene pointed to two people; Nick and Greg. Nick ended up needing stitches for a nasty cut in his side; left by whom? The call that came in last night had interrupted a meeting with the others. We'd been going over what little evidence we had, trying to find a way to link an unknown perp to the crime. Needless to say, we didn't have much luck. The call to my phone shattered the silence and made Sara jump. I knew that rushing out of the room like I did was only going to make them curious but I had somewhere important to be.

There's a soft rap on my door. I look up to find Sara standing there with Warrick and Catherine behind her. I wave them in.

"So, where did you rush off to last night in such a hurry? Someone set fire to your place or something?" Sara asked.

Even though I had been expecting the questions I didn't know quite how to phrase the troubling news. Nick always told me I wasn't good when it came to people. "There was an emergency. I reassure you that everything is okay. He's doing fine. I took him to the hospital myself."

"Who are you talking about?" questioned Catherine.

"Nicky?" guessed Warrick with a small nod of his head.

"Yes, Nicky," I confirmed. "I assure you though, he'll be fine. So don't worry too much. We need to figure out where the hell Greg is before we end up with-"

"Don't say it," Sara interrupted. "Greg will be found alive. Now I want to know just how bad Nick was hurt." She leaned on my desk, making it clear that she wouldn't leave until she got what she'd come for.

I sighed. Might as well tell her. It's the only way I'll get them to work. "He has two black eyes, one of which was caused by a small hairline fracture to the cheekbone. Three of his ribs are broken and one cracked. There were abrasions and cuts and he had a nasty sprained wrist. From the way he described the attack he got off pretty lightly," I explained. "I had to calm him down because he was afraid of internal bleeding. Don't tell him I said this, but I was afraid too. The doctor sent him home this afternoon with a whole load of painkillers."

"What the hell happened to him?" asked Warrick, leaning back against the wall.

"He said he got attacked. He went out for a walk and a man in a ski mask attacked him. A neighbor who had been our doing yard work heard him yell and found him lying in the street. Nick had him call me, why, I have no idea."

"I don't like this," Sara remarked. "Am I the only one who seems to think that someone is out to get Nick and Greg?"

"But why would anyone want to hurt them?" Catherine inquired. "As far as I know Nick's stalker is still in jail and the man that kidnapped him is dead. We did catch his partner, didn't we?"

"Unless he had another one, yes, we did catch the partner," I reassured her. "I'm going to have to go with Sara on this one. The evidence may point to only the two of them being in the house but I refuse to believe that two of my friends would harm each other, and that Greg would skip town."

Warrick folded his arms over his chest. "I don't want to sound like a conspiracy theorists, so forgive me for what I'm about to say. But what if the man who attacked Nick last night was Greg? He couldn't see the man's face."

"If he couldn't see a face than there's no definite reason to say it was a guy," Sara countered.

I put my glasses back on, while watching the tempers flare in my team. I knew Sara and Nick had a close friendship. And up until the whole outing of his love for Greg, Nick had had a pretty good friendship with Warrick and Catherine. For some reason they'd been acting different toward him. Not really so much as hate but I honestly believed it was a lack of understanding. They didn't know how to deal with the surprise. They had both known Nick as long as I had and they never expected this. My CSI's were slacking off.

"Will you guys stop bickering?" I almost needed to yell for them to hear me. "If you keep this up no work will get done on this case. Do you want to find Greg or not?" They all looked at me with solemn faces. "We only have a small space of time to figure out what really happened before the sheriff pushes to lock-up Nick."

Sara's eyes got wide in surprise. "He'd lock-up Nick without hard evidence?"

"Ecklie stopped by my office earlier. The conversation we had was unsettling, to say the least. Seems the sheriff paid him a visit. If we can't found evidence to clear Nick, the sheriff will charge him with killing Greg," I told them. I felt the desperation setting in, now they'd focus on the case with their full attention. There would be no more arguing.

"Nick didn't kill Greg," Warrick defended. No one disagreed with him. "The sheriff can't send him to jail."

"Yes, well," I sighed. "He won't be sending him to jail. He'd be sending him to a mental hospital. For some reason he and Ecklie really feel that Nick has lost his mind."

They stared at me with eyes of disbelief. I shooed them away to do their work. If they didn't want Nick to get sent away the best they could do was prove him innocent. And that wasn't going to be an easy task. The sheriff hadn't been able to keep the media quiet for long and the stories would be running soon. Everyone would believe that Nick killed Greg and was walking free. I feared what might happen to him. The only good thing going for Nick right now was that no body had been found. The bad thing, he was a CSI; he'd know the proper ways of disposing of the body. But why do that and leave only his blood in the house? Did he want us to believe that someone had hurt him and taken Greg? Is that what really happened? Then the question would be, why hurt Nick and taken Greg? Why not ask for a ransom? Greg was missing and no one had claimed the kidnapping. None of it made sense to me.

I looked over the photos of their house, tracing the movements by the blood. The blood in the bed had belonged to Nick. That made sense. He'd been sleeping when he got stabbed. However, the blood was on the left side of the bed. The cut on Nick had been on his left side. Was he sleeping on his stomach when the cut was made? And why didn't it wake him up?

Most disturbing was the bloody handprint on the door. The blood kept testing as Nick's but the prints belonged to Greg. Maybe Nick had harmed Greg and in fighting back Greg stabbed him in the side. But in the bed? Nick's blood could have gotten on Greg's hand, which was very likely. But why and how?

There wasn't a lick of evidence to prove that there had been a struggle. The house was cleaned and everything in its place. The windows were locked. The only sign of entry was through the front door. But since the entry wasn't forced, I don't know if someone had gotten in or if someone was just trying to get out.

Then there was the scream that Nick claimed to have heard. No one else had heard it. Not even the neighbors. Nick said he thought Greg was watching a horror movie. I checked the TV guide for that night and no horror movies had been playing on any of the channels. I checked the DVD player for a movie, nothing. Could the scream really have belonged to Greg? If it did, why didn't Nick hear anything else when it woke him up?

Why did Nick have blood on his hands? Why had he passed out before help arrived? Why couldn't he remember calling me? Question after question flooded my mind. None of the evidence could place another person in that house. There had to be something that we missed. A small piece hair or maybe a fingerprint that didn't belong. I closed the folder on my desk in frustration. Never before had I felt so lost in a case. Even when Nick had been kidnapped from the fake crime scene there had been evidence to follow. There was nothing here. Nothing that could free him of charges for murder. At this rate the sheriff was going to get his wish, and so would Ecklie. Nick was going to be locked away in a white room with a matching white jacket.

Deciding that a change of scenery and a short walk might help shift the puzzle in mind I took off for the break room. The cup of coffee I poured myself went untouched as I starred into space, trying to put the piece into place. All the evidence said he did it. My gut told me he did it. But deep in my heart I knew that he was innocent. And I wasn't going to stop until I proved it and found Greg. Hopefully I'd find him alive.


	7. Losing Nick

**Title: **Crash and Burn

**Disclaimer: **Angst, slash, violence, sexual content, language.

**POV:** Nick

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Chapter Seven: Losing Nick

Someone really didn't want me to be happy. They went out of their way to make me depressed. How can anyone be happy sitting on a couch will braces and gauze wrapped around parts of the body? Popping the pills to take away the pain didn't really help me any either. Since having a hairline fracture in my cheek made opening my mouth too far hurt like hell. At least the bruising and the swelling had gone down some. Even the black bruises under my eyes were beginning to fade. I probably looked like some sort of deranged raccoon-person. My life was hell.

Grissom had rushed to help me after Mr. Knowles called him. The look on his face when he stepped out of the Tahoe hurt me even more. At first he was shocked, and then he was outraged that someone would do such a thing, and finally, he was upset and worried. Just like I predicted he brought the cavalry along with him; an ambulance and two police cars. Most of the officers patrolled the area to see if they could find anything. One officer interviewed Mr. Knowles and of course, the paramedics took care of me. I think my neighbor had been extremely impressed with the fast service. I just hope he didn't spread the word; people would start complaining about the lack of speed their injuries received.

I leaned my head back against the couch. I'd taken a painkiller a few hours ago and a sleeping pill. I just wanted to spend some time out of this world. It would be a better alternative. The last thing I needed to do was listen to my own thoughts in a quiet house in my depressed state. Last time I got this upset I tried to kill myself; not once, but twice. The others would never forgive me if I gave into the temptation and tried it again. So I slipped a pillow behind my head and closed my eyes, waiting for the sleep to take me away.

_I found myself wandering the hallways of the lab. It was night, or so I thought, since the place was dark, even with the lights on. Not another soul wandered the halls with me. I was all alone. Lost to the world, or did the world lose me? I slipped through the hallways like fog on the night. Taking advantage of the opportunity I took a detour to Grissom's office. I had always wanted to snoop through the countless things he kept locked away from us. _

_The room called to me, empty of all those who would shoo me away. I inspected the shelves full of glassed-in dead bugs; there were even a few lives insects and a rather large tarantula on the shelves. If Grissom spent as much time on people as he did on his bugs he'd probably be a happier person. Boos lined even more shelves. They covered every scientific topic under the sun. The books on bugs didn't surprise me in the least. Or the ones on decomposing bodies, I had a few of those in my home._

_A trashcan fell over, making a loud clanking sound. The lights went out and I whirled around in surprise. Something had gone wrong. I heard a big bang, glass shattering. The sounds reminded me of the time the lab blew-up. Running into the hallway I found one flickering light. It showed me the broken glass and the smoke from the explosion. It was just like the time Greg got blown up. Only he wasn't there this time._

_The glass crunched under my feet as I cautiously walked around the shattered room. It was stifling hot in the place. I went to run a hand across my forehead to wipe away the sweat when a flash of color caught my eye. I looked down at my hands. Both of them were covered in blood. Where had it come from? A loud bang against a door called my attention. Letting my blood soaked hands fall to my side I gravitated toward the constant banging. The door to the garage stood in front of me. The noises kept coming, as though someone were banging to get out of the room. Should I open the door? What if there was something unpleasant behind that door?_

_I slipped my hand over the door, smearing blood everywhere. The knob felt warm in my hand. I twisted it. The door opened and the banging kept up, even though no one was there. What the hell? I walked into the room. The only thing there was a large metal coffin. My heart stopped. The banging came from there. Someone wanted out. A force not my own had me walking toward the dreaded box. All attempts to stop myself went nowhere. I had no control over my own body. My hand brushed along the cool metal surface of the container. The knocking became more insistent. My fingers traced the outline of the latch that kept the lid held shut._

_Trembling with a fear my fingers worked on their own to pop the latch up. I tried to close my eyes. I didn't want to see what lay inside. The lid eased opened slowly, drawing out the tension and the suspension. My heart raced in my chest. Sweat began to dot my brow. I didn't want the damn thing open. I tried so hard to stop myself but to no avail. The lid was open. _

_Greg lay inside, his throat slit and glassy eyes seeing no more. Blood coated his white T-shirt like spilled paint. A scream lodged in my throat. I couldn't face this, and yet, I couldn't walk away. Some force held me here, to glance upon this horrible scene before me. I wanted to run and never look back. My body was nearly seized with a heart attack when the hand of the dead Greg moved. It pointed toward the lid of its metal coffin. My eyes involuntarily followed the outstretched finger to read the words scrawled in blood._

_You are the one responsible for this…_

_The scream finally tore free and I let it out. I let the world know that I was desperate and scared. Gaining control of my body I slammed the lid shut, shutting away the body of my lover. The banging began almost instantly. This couldn't be happening to me. This wasn't right. I hadn't killed Greg…I hadn't. The knocking grew louder, until the whole metal coffin shook._

I opened my eyes, nearly jumping off the couch in my fear; I tried to shut away the images in my mind. Greg wasn't dead. He couldn't be. I tried to shake the fear from my body. There would be no sleeping for a long time, if ever again. I needed to have Greg home with me. I needed to know that he was indeed safe. A loud bang on my front door made me cry out in surprise and fear.

Personally, I didn't want to get up and answer the door. I knew that moving would cause ripples of pain to pass through my body. But the knocker was persistent and the banging on the door was beginning to give me a headache. Easing slowly up from the couch, I stood on two shaky legs, trying to get pass the pain. Every damn little move hurt like a thousand needles piercing my skin at once. This was hell. The only thing that could possibly be worse than this would be a gunshot wound. Imagine feeling that small piece of hot metal passing through your skin, shredding your innards and, if you're lucky, passing through the skin again on the way out. I shuddered at the thought.

With slow deliberate steps I took my time getting to the door. Whoever was on the other side really wanted my attention. How long had they been standing there, waiting for an answer? Why had they not called out? If Grissom had been on the other side of the door he would have broken it down, worried about me. This was probably some person out to sell stuff. I really hated door-to-door salesmen. My hand brushed against the cool doorknob. The locks were in place. The next knock shook the door, as though someone had thrown themselves against the door.

"Hold your horses, damn it. I just need to undo the locks," I shouted at them. The last thing I needed was someone breaking down my door. Unlocking the two locks that kept the outside world at bay I opened the door. My heart stopped and the blood running through my body went cold. This wasn't happening. I had to be on the couch, still dreaming away the day. I had to be.

"Hello, Nicky," the man smiled innocently.

"You're not really here," I muttered in protest. The brown hair and the brown eyes of the short man standing in front of me were familiar to me. He was the last person I wanted to see. The last person I ever expected to see. Fear wrapped around my chest, squeezing my ribcage and making it hard to breathe.

"Aw, Nicky, I feel so hurt now," the man replied. "Of I'm really here. You see, we have a touch of unfinished business. You ruined my life a year ago. My plan fell apart because of you. I just wanted to be your friend. Why couldn't we have been friends, Nicky? Imagine the fun things we could have done together. Instead you had to go and spend all your time with that pesky lab technician. He really is a nerd, you know."

"Go away," I yelled, trying to slam the door shut. He stuck a foot in the opening, keeping it from closing. "Don't make me call the cops."

"Who's going to believe you, Nicky boy?"

"Grissom will believe me. They all will. All they have to do is check with the prison to find out that you escaped, or got out, whichever it was." This was more of a way to reassure myself.

He laughed. "Oh, please, that won't work. You see, I've had time to make a few friends in high places. As far as your friends know I'm still in jail. My record says so. Most people would like to have it the other way around but this time, my plan will not be ruined. Not by you, not your nerdy lover, or your meddling friends."

I felt the tears streaming down my cheeks. This just couldn't be happening again. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"I wanted your life, Nicky, and you wouldn't just step aside to let me have it. No, you had to go and get me locked up in jail," he sneered, forcing himself into my house. "This time, I'll make sure no one gets to have your life. I'll kill you and that nerdy little scientist of yours. Though I may take my time with him. Make him suffer. I should have been the one you spent your time with, not him."

"Please, Nigel, don't do this, not again," I cried openly. My stalker was back out on the streets and seeking his revenge. Could he have been the one to kidnap Greg? He did say that he wanted to make him suffer.

"It'll be different this time, Nicky boy, I promise. This time I won't use a gun. They make too much noise," he promised. "Instead, I have a different tactic I'm going to use. Maybe I'll hide somewhere down the street so that I can see the look on Grissom's face when he shows up to find you dead. One of his precious CSI's killed in their own house. The headlines will be lovely."

"Please, Nigel," I begged. "Can't we work this out? Find some common ground to stand on?"

The smile that he flashed me was purely evil. It sent shivers down my spin. It left an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. I'd never get to see Greg alive again. I'd never see him smile, or hear his laugh. I'd never get to smell that scent that was purely him, or cuddle next to him in bed. This was not how I wanted to die. But how was I going to fight against a man in perfect health when I was bandaged and in braces? Why did it have to end this way? Did I have no other choice in life?


	8. Bleeding it Out

**Title: **Crash and Burn

**Disclaimer: **Angst, slash, violence, sexual content, language.

**POV:** Grissom

**

* * *

Chapter Eight: Bleeding it Out**

I slammed my fist into the table in a fit of anguish. All night I had been going over the evidence. Again. Trying desperately to find something, anything that would clear the names of my subordinates. Just that one tiny piece of evidence that would put Nick and Greg outside the radar of the sheriff. Time was running short and was beginning to feel as though I was fighting a losing battle. Someone else had to have committed this crime and there had to be a mistake somewhere. They couldn't have possibly cleaned up everything. The general public doesn't realize how hard it is to clean away all the evidence. Maybe I wasn't dealing with the general public. Thinking like that made it appear as though my friends were guilty, just like everyone else seemed to think they were. I couldn't have that.

Running a sample of blood from Nick's house through the machine again I sat back to await my results. I knew the computer would say the same thing it said the first five times. The blood was Nick's; all of the blood belonged to Nick. Aside from the clothes in the dresser and a few other knick-knacks it had been hard to tell that Greg even shared a home with Nick. Maybe Nick didn't want him around anymore. Maybe he grew tired of sharing his house with another man. But to actually kill his lover, wouldn't that be a tad too drastic? He could have just asked him to move out, to leave him alone, and tell him that the relationship was over.

Tired of waiting for the computer to spit out the same results as usual I took off for the break-room. Time for the shift to end grew closer and closer and I needed to give my brain a rest. I always told my team to put away a tough case until the next night. That way they could look upon it with fresh eyes, new ideas. However, this time I refused to heed my own advice. We had been able to work around the clock to find Nick when he'd been kidnapped. We had worked as a team, eight people unified to one goal. Now the team was two short and the rest of them were running after their own opinions, occupied with their own problems. That would never work.

Grabbing a chilled bottle of water from the fridge I sit at the small table. The TV in the corner is off for once. Somehow the sheriff had managed to keep everything under wraps; the missing CSI and the attack on another. How he did it I didn't care to find out, I was just thankful for it, though I believe it to be more a political move than a sign of friendship. Having two abductions of CSIs while he was sheriff would mar his record. Couldn't have that now, could he? I took a swig of the water, feeling the cool liquid pass over my tongue and down my throat. My stomach growled, yearning for food, but I had no appetite.

Could this whole event be my fault? Had I taken the time to stop and smell the roses, or in this case, talk with Nick, I would have known if something was wrong. Damn my lack of people skills. If we found Greg alive and Nick innocent I swore to spend less time at work and with my bugs, and spend more time with the ones that I held dear. I promised myself the same exact thing when Nick had been kidnapped, and again when he tried to kill himself. It never stuck, but this time I'd keep my promise. Every one of them would know that they were important to me as friends, as family, and not just as colleagues.

Sara came into the room, grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter, and sat at the table across from me. "You look more lost than usual, Griss."

"It's this whole damned case. I just can't get it out of my head," I told her. "There has to be something I'm missing."

"Grissom, this isn't your fault," she reassured me. She took a bite of her apple before continuing. "What have you learned today? Anything new?"

"Not a goddamned thing, that's what I've learned. I've run the blood samples through again and again hoping to get different results. The evidence screams out loud every damn time that the blood is all Nick's."

Sara gave me a thoughtful, yet sorrowful, look. "I find it depressing that we can't all work the case with you. You never did tell us why Ecklie assigned two more cases to our shift. What gives? I thought he'd want everyone working the missing case."

Her soft brown eyes looked into mine. Her worries for Nick and Greg, and her love for me were clear as day in those lovely eyes. Maybe when this case was solved…maybe…"Ecklie and the sheriff are suffering from a case of tunnel vision. Both of them are dead-set on pinning all responsibility on Nick. Ever since his kidnapping they've been convinced that he's unstable, that something inside him has snapped. With Greg missing and Nick as the only suspect their feeling might proud of themselves."

"Those assholes," whispered Sara in a shocked voice. "I'll be the first to admit that Nick hasn't exactly been himself since that incident, who can blame him? Sure, he doesn't like going underground and confined spaces make him shake, but wouldn't you feel that way too?"

I sighed, leaning back in the chair. She was right, just like always. Though he had changed in subtle ways he still remained the Nicky we all knew and loved. He talked trash with Warrick, made jokes with Brass, listened to Catherine, and came to me when he needed to know the answer to a question. He laughed. He smiled. He cried. He loved. He was and always would be Nick Stokes, as long as he had his lab family to help him through.

"He didn't do this," I stated.

"I know that and you know that, how will we make everyone else see that?" questioned Sara.

"The evidence," I replied, standing from the table and making my way out the door. "The evidence never lies."

"Grissom," Sara called, running to catch-up with me. "We already know what the evidence says. It's not going to help us."

"We're missing something, that's all."

The piece of paper I had been waiting for called to me. I plucked it from printer and read over it, letting a smile appear on my face. Finally, something had fallen into place. Persistence finally paid off. The clock signaled the ending of night shift. I didn't care; I'd finally gotten the one thing my heart desired. The missing piece of the puzzle showed itself for the first time.

"What's with the grin, Griss? You're beginning to scare me," said Sara.

"Who collected all these blood samples?" I asked in response to her question.

"If they're from the door, that would be me," she replied without hast. "I know I took more than protocol says but I couldn't help myself. Two important lives were on the line."

I gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, taking her by surprise. "Thank you. You just helped clear both Nick and Greg of the crime at hand."

"Griss-"

"The blood that I ran came back. It's a mix of Greg's and Nick's with a small sampling of a third party. A third party," I cried with joy.

Sara smiled at me, letting the knowledge sink in that we hadn't been wrong all along. Someone else had been in that house. Someone else had taken Greg and hurt Nick. The joy quickly washed away as we realized what that all meant. Someone had Greg. There had been no ransom demand, no contact whatsoever. A disturbing sign that could mean we'd find a body instead.

"Tonight I'm going to talk with the sheriff and Ecklie to see if I can get everyone focused on this one case. The unidentified blood source should be convincing enough to prove there was a kidnapping," I said to Sara. "At the moment I think I'm going to go pay Nick a visit, break the news to him. The last thing I want for him is to hear this from someone else."

"I so agree on that last part. If you want some help with the sheriff and Ecklie tomorrow, just let me know," she offered.

Parting ways I said goodbye to the lab for the day and climbed into my car. On the way to Nick's house I tried to think of ways to break the news to him. On one hand it was good news and on the other, it was bad news. Two sides of the same damn coin. Flip it one way and Greg was alive. Flip it the other way and Greg was dead. I deliberately took the long way to Nick's house, prolonging the decision making that was going on in my head. I finally decided that the best way to tell him would be straightforward and truthful. Pulling into his driveway I killed the engine and climbed from the car.

Mr. Knowles gave me a leery look over the hood of his car, which he was washing. The last two times he'd seen me things had been bad. I gave him a small wave and a hesitant smile. He went back to paying attention to the automobile in his driveway. Nick's door was closed, all the curtains of his house drawn to block out the sun. I knocked, hoping that he'd be awake. No sounds came from inside. Still, I waited a good minute before knocking again, a little louder this time. Still nothing. I'd probably caught him while he was sleeping or in the shower. Returning to my car to fetch a piece of paper to leave a note with I was stopped by the voice of Mr. Knowles.

"He's home, Mr. Grissom. He was there all night, and I haven't heard a peep from him yet today. Haven't seen him drive off or go on a walk. My guess is that he's sleeping or something."

"Thank you, I'll just leave a note on his door," I replied.

Walking back up the door I began to scribble a note to leave behind. I wanted him to call me as soon as he got the note. This was news he had to hear. As I was looking for a way to hold the note to the door- there had been no tape in my car- I heard a distant sound coming from inside. I knocked, thinking that maybe Nick had just gotten up. The sound grew a little louder. It sounded to me like a person moaning in pain. Had he fallen and hurt himself? Trying the door I found that it wasn't locked. Opening it just a crack I was hit with the coppery smell of blood.

Stepping into the room, my eyes were greeted with an appalling sight. I rushed to Nick's side, my cell phone in my hand to call for help. I bent down over Nick's body as I recited his address. The dispatcher said an ambulance would be sent straight away. I rested a hand on Nick's pale cheek. My eyes strayed to the reopened wounds on his wrists, both of them fresh with blood. A feeling of despair hit me as I realized that I'd let him down again.


	9. Fighting the Odds

**Title: **Crash and Burn

**Disclaimer: **Angst, slash, violence, language.

**POV:** Nick

**Chapter Nine: Fighting the Odds**

I stood outside the two story white structure. This is where my heart led me, to a place I wished to forever forget. I should have been in the hospital. I should have been a good boy and listened to Grissom. But I couldn't stay there and listen to them anymore. All their talk was making me doubt myself and I couldn't let that happen. I was the only one who knew the truth. Let them all believe me to be crazy. I'll show them. They'll come to regret this day. Taking a step toward the two-story structure I steeled my spine for the rush of memories that I expected to come flooding back. They didn't come, though. Instead my mind returned to the previous hours of the day.

_I awoke in the hospital, a bit groggy from the pain medication that had been given to me. Grissom leaned against the foot of the bed, his back to me. He was the only one there. My mind played through the movie of another similar time, months ago. Only this time, Greg wouldn't be walking through the door to give me a kiss. I study the posture of my boss. He had his left arm crossed over his chest, while his right hand was up near his face; doing what I couldn't see. His slumped shoulders told me that he was either tired or feeling guilty about something. I reached over to the table for a glass of water, my throat feeling dry. Grissom turned to face me as the movement of my arm jerked the tether that connected it to the bedrail._

_I glared at him as best I could. "Are they really necessary?"_

_Coming around the side of the bed to pour me a glass of water he said, "Yes, Nicky, I'm afraid they are. I can't have you repeating your last stay in the hospital. It's bad enough that you're here now and for the same damn thing." He undid the right tether and gave me the cup of water. The liquid was cooling._

"_I didn't do this to myself, if that's what you're thinking," I remarked._

"_How can I believe you?" questioned Grissom. "Looking back over the months, you haven't exactly been yourself. I never thought you'd attempt suicide the first time. Then you tried to kill yourself again while in the hospital. What makes this time any different? The scars from the last two times have been reopened."_

_I tossed the cup at him in building frustration. "What makes this time different is that I didn't do it. You have to believe me on this one, Griss."_

"_I'm not sure what I should believe anymore." He sat in an old wooden chair. "I don't know what's going on in your life anymore. Hell, for all I know you staged the beating and turned around and did this to yourself."_

"_Is that really what you believe?" I narrowed my eyes at him._

"_It is what Ecklie believes and he's convinced the sheriff that you're unstable. They're talking about firing you and having you committed; which they can do if they see you as a threat to yourself. Something you clearly seem to be," he explained._

"_I'm not crazy, Grissom. I've never been surer of anything in my life," I told him with confidence._

"_Okay, then tell me what happened," was his reply._

"_Alright, I will. After you brought me back from the hospital, after the beating, I was just sitting around on my couch, thinking of how everything had become fucked up," I started. "I took my medication and a sleeping pill. I wanted to waste away the time, hoping that maybe when I woke up everything would be a change. Hoping that this whole damn thing was just a dream. Instead I had another nightmare. Have I told you how tired I am of nightmares? I woke to the sound of someone knocking, no banging, on my door."_

"_You had a visitor last night? Mr. Knowles didn't mention that," Grissom stated._

_I ignored him to continue my recount. "When I opened the door I went cold. There stood Nigel Crane, the one and only." Grissom sat up straighter in his chair at the mention of my stalker. "He told me that he was going to make my life non-existent. He said that if he couldn't be me then I couldn't be me, or something along those lines. I tried to close the door on him, to keep him from entering. But I guess I wasn't quick enough. He barged right on in. I thought he would just shoot me and get it done and over with. However, he said it would be more fun to watch me suffer in pain. Grabbing a knife from a pocket he proceeded toward me. I think that's about the time my neighbor returned home or something because he spooked. He did this to me," I raised my free wrist. "I didn't do it."_

"_Nicky, there are no defensive wounds on your hands or anywhere else. You didn't put up a fight," said Grissom._

"_It's not exactly easy to fight when you have medication racing through your body and you've been beaten on," I snapped._

"_Nicky, Nigel Crane was not at your house last night. He didn't hurt you," Grissom stated matter-of-factly. "I've checked, Nigel Crane is still behind bars."_

_I chuckled. "He told me that he fabricated those records."_

_Grissom frowned in worry. "I sent Sara to talk to him, Nicky. He's still behind bars. There's no way he could have been at your house."_

The words echoed in my mind, "still behind bars". But how could that be? He was in my house last night. He hurt me and truly intended for me to die. This wasn't right. None of it fit into place. However, if the man was still behind bars he shouldn't have been home. So why was there a car sitting in the driveway, the hood still warm from a recent drive? Why was there a light on in the basement? On silent footsteps I crept toward a basement window. Someone moved around inside but I couldn't tell who it was. Years of dust had settled on the window, blocking out most of the details. All I could tell was that the person appeared to be the height of Nigel Crane; who by all rights was in jail. Maybe he had a brother. Maybe he had a twin brother. An identical twin that we didn't know about. Stranger things have happened.

The figure picked some sort of object up off a table in the corner of the room. He gave it a good look over before disappearing behind a pile of boxes. I could no longer see him and I began to feel a little paranoid. Where had he gone? What was he doing? It was then that I heard the heart wrenching scream. A scream I knew all too well. Greg was in that basement and he was in need of immediate help. It was now or never.


	10. Peace of Mind

**Title: **Crash and Burn

**Disclaimer: **Angst, slash, violence, language.

**Author Note: **_Having lost interest in this story the ending has come much sooner than I wanted. But I always finish the projects I start, even if they don't go as planned. Sorry for this poor ending._

**POV:** Nick

**Chapter Ten: Peace of Mind**

Not even bothering to think of the consequences I ran up the stairs and threw my injured body through the door. The scream from the basement dyed down as I crossed the threshold. It would only be a matter of moments before my intrusion was noticed and Nigel Crane came looking for me. I didn't care. Let him come looking for me, let him come up here. The anger that coursed through my body fed the adrenaline that made my heart beat faster. No one else believed me and that made me the only hope that Greg had in surviving. Hearing footsteps on the stairs I quickly located a hiding place and waited.

Nigel Crane opened the basement door, peeked out into the kitchen to make sure that was everything was okay, and stepped into the room. It took all the strength I had not to burst from my hiding place when I saw all the blood on his once light blue shirt. What exactly had he done to Greg? A low throbbing pain began in my side, ebbing from where I had been stabbed. I had probably wrenched the tender muscle, well; I could deal with the pain. Greg needed me right now and I wasn't going to let him down.

I watched silently from my hidden position as Nigel walked across the room and out into the hallway. He cursed as his eyes fell upon the open door and its broken frame. While he was occupied with that I slid from my hiding spot and made my way quietly to the open basement door. Nigel couldn't see me, I couldn't see him. The basement brought back a flood of memories, the confines of a coffin, the dirt piled all around me. I involuntarily shuddered. My own emotions cost me dearly. Nigel swore and I whirled around to find him coming at me in a fast pace. I didn't have the time to react before he shoved me. My feet went out from underneath me and I fell backward. The stairs didn't stop my descent; instead each step left a bruise as my body hit the wood with heavy thuds. I heard someone sobbing as I finally rolled out on the floor below.

Shifting my weight to my side I did my best to climb to my feet but every inch of my body screamed in pain. Lights flashed in my eyes and I could feel the overwhelming presence of unconsciousness on its way. Knowing that I wouldn't be able to fight I tried to get a good look around the basement. A figure sat huddled in a corner but my vision was too blurred to make out any futures. Nigel's thudding footsteps could be heard on the stairs as he slowly descended behind me. All I had wanted to do was save Greg and now it looked as thought both of us would end up dead. Life never did turn out the way I wanted it to, why should now be any different?

I blacked out before Nigel reached me.

P

Waking some time later I tried to move. My wrists were bound behind my back and my ankles tied too. There was no way I could escape now. A gag in my mouth caused me to cough when I tried to inhale deeply. At least he hadn't blindfolded me. Using the last of my strength I managed to push myself into a sitting position. Nigel seemed to be missing for the time being. This gave me an opportunity to look around. The basement had a cement floor, which had left a mark on my body, and there were boxes piled up all over the place. A table in the corner held objects of many shapes and sizes but I wasn't at the proper height to make out what most of them were. I did see a gun though. Looking to my left I saw Greg sitting against a wall and my heart broke.

His arms and legs were bound, his hand hanging down, his chin touching his chest. If he was breathing I couldn't tell. Blood had run down his arms, drying and leaving crusty trails behind. His shirt was stained; there was no telling what color it had originally been. There were droplets of blood here and there on the walls and floor. If Greg was still alive he would be in desperate need of medical attention. So much blood had been lost already. I didn't want to listen to the little voice in my head that said Greg was dead. That Greg had long since left this world. But I'd heard him scream. Hadn't I?

Hearing footsteps on the stairs I turned my head to see Nigel smiling at me. "I see you've finally found your lover," he said, his voice way too happy. It gave him an even creepier appeal.

I tried to talk but only managed to make myself short of breath. Nigel bent down in front of me. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and strangle him, maybe give him a good kick in the groin. Then tie him up before shooting him in the head. It would be overkill but I didn't care anymore. He was going to kill me anyway. I'd join Greg in another universe before anyone even found our bodies.

Nigel ran a hand along my cheek. "Forgive me, but I don't see the fascination my brother has with you. Yes, I can see that you are a stubborn fuck. Is that any reason for him to be jealous? Why couldn't you have just been his friend? Then none of this would have happened. He wouldn't be in jail and you two wouldn't be here."

My eyes never left his face. His brother? Nigel was his brother? My earlier thoughts about identical twins came racing back. Why hadn't we ever found out about a twin brother, or any siblings? I thought Grissom had looked into Nigel's past. Now I found that I wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"You're wondering who I am, aren't you," the Nigel-look-alike asked. "The name is Niles; I'm Nigel's twin brother. I was living on the east coast, up in New York when you put my brother in jail. It ruined everything, you know. Finding her favorite son in jail killed our mother. She drank herself to death. You took away everything I had. So, I decided to finish what my brother couldn't. I hope you don't mind."

He smiled an evil full of hatred as he pulled a knife from behind his back. I did my best to squirm and struggle, but there wasn't anything I could do. My body ached and my angry was gone. My scream was muffled by the gag when he drove the blade deep into my thigh. I hit the back of my head on the concrete wall. Too bad it didn't knock me out. He drew the blade out slowly, making sure that it hurt coming out as much as it did going in. That's when the cavalry arrived. Warrick appeared on the stairs, his gun drawn. The pain in my body was making me nauseous, my chest heaved with the effort to fight off the urge to vomit. I knew that if I vomited the gag would cause me to choke to death. Niles raised the knife, preparing to stab me again when Grissom appeared behind Warrick. He nudged my friend who fired his weapon. The echo off the concrete walls was deafening.

Niles fell over, blood pouring out of the back of his head. Warrick hadn't missed. Seeing the blood and brain matter seeping from the guys head only made matters worse. I closed my eyes, turning my head away. I could feel the bile rising in the back of my throat. The clatter of footsteps on the stairs gave 'way to the sound of shoes on concrete.

"Check on Greg," Grissom ordered in an urgent voice.

I felt a hand on my shoulder while another tore the gag from my mouth. Finally free I took in deep gulps of air, fighting back the nausea. Grissom busied himself with cutting away my restraints. By the time he got them undone I was sobbing, tears running down my face in a flood. I threw my arms around his shoulders in the need to be comforted. At first he was unsure of how to respond but he quickly wrapped his arms around me.

"It's okay, Nicky, you're safe now," he assured. "You're safe."

Warrick's voice broke through my sobs. He was yelling for Catherine to call an ambulance. Greg was still alive, barely, but he'd hung on long enough to get the help he so needed. Grissom continued to comfort me, showing everyone that he had changed. Showing basic human emotions in front of everyone else. It wasn't until later at the hospital that I learned he too had been crying. He blamed himself and felt miserable. Only time would make things better. We all had time. Greg would be okay, so would I; it would take longer for the emotion scares to heal, though. But I knew they'd never go away, they never did.

**Fin**


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